


swathe yourself in software (see machinations move)

by bookmarc



Category: Designations congruent with things, Pacific Rim (Movies)
Genre: Gen, Lightcap working on the remote interface AI, fic based on fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-16
Updated: 2018-04-16
Packaged: 2019-04-23 12:58:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 858
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14332944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bookmarc/pseuds/bookmarc
Summary: Lightcap knows how constructing the remote interface is going to go down.So does Serge, even though he's not quite ready to accept it."I don't want to want this," Serge says, and she knows what he means, and she stifles the part of her mind that wants to be guilty for that, for imprinting his mind with her own desires and beliefs and systems from which he cannot escape.





	swathe yourself in software (see machinations move)

Thursday night is date night, except on the nights when it isn't. It mostly isn't, the past few months. Serge jokes that it's a date every time they get in a rig, but Lightcap knows he misses dinner, when they don't do it for a while. He needs to feel prioritized, Serge, like he's important. On one hand, Lightcap feels like it's a stupid impulse. He shouldn't need her to set aside time for dinner when every week he can _know_ how much he – how much she –

On the other hand, he can also see where her priorities _really_ lie, so maybe it's not that mysterious.

This Thursday, they finish out the evening sitting across from each other at their dining table, eating from separate take-away containers. Lightcap has Indian, or the closest she can get to it, here; Serge has Korean barbecue. They're at the tail end of a bottle of red wine. Serge's going to stop drinking, after he finishes his glass, but Lightcap'll finish it off. It's comfortable, this routine.

Usually, they try not to talk about work.

"Cait," Serge says, swirling his glass and not looking at her.

Her awareness sharpens down to him, her body reacting in dread or anticipation or the beginnings of fight-or-flight at whatever it knows is behind that tone. She takes a steady breath and it does not waver.

"I want to talk about the AI."

Intellectually, emotionally, the tension runs out of her, because despite how much _Serge_ does not want to have this conversation, _she_ is doing just fine, all she needs to say is what she has already given him. In the drift. He knows.

Her body is not so quick to lose the tension, and she breathes slowly through the adrenaline, the norepinephrine, trying to will it away, trying to pretend that she's not going to be shaky and exhausted in about ten minutes. 

"Okay," she says.

"I don't want to want this," Serge says, and she knows what he means, and she stifles the part of her mind that wants to be guilty for that, for imprinting his mind with her own desires and beliefs and systems from which he cannot escape.

"What do you want to talk about?" she asks, and he finally looks up.

"The timeline, I guess," he says, and she's grateful, _so_ grateful, in this moment, to have someone know her so completely that there is no negotiation, no posturing, no rhetoric. Just an acceptance of the inevitable. 

Their inevitability.

She should be guilty for that too, probably. That she is so glad to have someone fold under her will without her having to make the effort of persuading them.

"I'm going to start working on it next week," she says, picking at a piece of broccoli with her fork, just to have something to do with her hands. That's Serge's pattern, not hers, but she allows it here in this yellow-lit room where they are alone, almost through a bottle of wine, exhausted and together. "I'll make a proposal as soon as I have enough data. I – I need you to say that you'll do it. That you're willing to do it."

"Of course I'm willing to do it. I don't want to. I _wouldn't_ want to." 

"You don't have to," she says, circling back, because even if it is inevitable, even though they both know how it will play out, even though she breathlessly wants not to talk this over –

"Of course I will. We will," Serge says, again, because he knows her as she knows herself. "Can I –?"

"Yes. I'll explain it to you. We can walk through the code."

"So – a month, maybe, for the proposal?"

"Less if I can make it. I have to prove to myself I can do it. Not to them. They just need confidence. Then I'll have techs, a team, and – we won't propose the rest until later."

"Surely they know that someone will have to –"

"Even if it wasn't us, someone would volunteer. Anyone would volunteer. Any of the pilots."

"Yeah," Serge says, like they still haven't gotten to what he wanted to say. 

Lightcap pours out the rest of the wine. Serge watches her, then finishes his own glass in a long swallow.

"I want to say something, but I know that saying it won't make anything change," Serge says, slowly. "It's just that – I'm afraid, and I don't want to do this, and I know we're going to do this, and we have to. And I want that to resolve into one feeling, instead of two conflicting feelings."

Lightcap doesn't have anything to say to that.

"Well, you know me. Not known for the best emotional management."

"Your emotional management is kickass," Serge says, and, funnily, she's not sure if he believes it. "Yeah. I figure, maybe if I don't think about it for a while then by the time I have to think about it I'll be used to the idea."

"Sounds good to me," Lightcap says, and knocks back the rest of the wine, closes her take-away container, stands up.

Serge doesn’t bring it up again.

**Author's Note:**

> This is theoretically part of a longer piece spanning the period of time between Lightcap deciding to attempt a drift with the interface and actually attempting it. My efforts are currently stalled because I cannot come up with a reason why drifting with the interface would _actually_ reduce the time lag of a remote interface. If you can explain that, then, oh god, please explain it to _me_.
> 
> If you want to read Designations and can't find a copy (or if you want to chat about it), hit me up me up on [tumblr](http://bookmarced.tumblr.com/) or [pillowfort](https://pillowfort.io/bookmarc). Also, I would like to note that it is not my fault the canonical AO3 Designations tag is improperly capitalized.
> 
> Concrit received gladly.


End file.
